


Veela's Touch

by Malfoy (Houseofmalfoy)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Paris (City), Post-Second War with Voldemort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24027484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Houseofmalfoy/pseuds/Malfoy
Summary: Narcissa needs a day of being anonymous, and it doesn't quite work out.
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Narcissa Black Malfoy
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	Veela's Touch

Everywhere she went back home in Britain, Narcissa was recognised. 

She was recognised as either the witch who’d saved Harry Potter’s life; recognised as her husband’s victim of war; recognised as an irredeemable monster, recognised as anything they wanted her to be. 

Once upon a time, Narcissa had adored knowing that everyone would know her name wherever she went, she had revelled in the knowledge that she was famous and respected within the bubble she lived in. These days, after the war, she supposed she was infamous all the same. 

Paris provided her with a break from the reputation that never ceased to follow her in Britain. 

Narcissa was seated at the bar of a magical cafe in the heart of Paris at the end of a long day of nothing but shopping and having lunch with a distant cousin of the Lestranges. Her bags were back at the hotel room she had rented for the night and she was perfectly content to sit in complete anonymity for the time being.

Certainly, if she’d give her name to anyone, a few would recognise it from the newspapers; even outside of England the war that had destroyed their society had been discussed in the press, not to mention the names Malfoy and Black were both infamous in most magical societies. 

By her looks alone, however, she was just like anyone else in the cafe, if only wealthier and more beautiful. 

Just like anyone else, until she lazily looked around the crowd and came eye to eye with an all too familiar young witch. 

Dark blue eyes, silver hair that enchanted the looker in such a way that screamed  _ veela _ to Narcissa, and a properly alarmed expression that told her she had been recognised as well. Fleur Delacour, who would have been Weasley if she had not been so insistent on keeping her last name. 

Narcissa had half a mind to return to the Veela’s Touch, a cleverly named drink she had been enjoying but before she had the chance to make up her mind about it she saw ms. Delacour rise from her seat. 

_ So far for a night of anonymity.  _

“Fleur Delacour,“ Narcissa stated coolly. She took a sip from her drink and raised a single eyebrow at the witch, assessing her with a mildly intimidating look. “I had not expected to see you here.”

Fleur explained something about her little sister recently having moved to the city that Narcissa only pretended to listen to but nodded along to with interest so perfectly faked it could have been genuine. When she was asked about her own reasons for being in Paris alone, she merely shrugged politely at the question. 

“Does a witch need a reason to visit this marvellous city?”

“Most don’t.”

_ Clever witch. _ Narcissa smiled at her, then to her own surprise gestured for Fleur to take the seat next to her. To her greater surprise, the offer was accepted. She ordered them both another Veela’s Touch and chuckled at Fleur’s distasteful expression at the drink’s name. 

For the next hour and a half, the two of them spoke of everything and nothing, careful to not mention the war in any context. Fleur talked about her daughter with such brightness that Narcissa couldn’t help but be touched by her happiness, of her job at Gringotts and her beautiful husband and the pride in her voice reminded Narcissa of herself. 

They talked of family and France and Narcissa only briefly mentioned her own fond memories of the country, summers spent with the Lestrange brothers in their uncle’s mansion, and after she had had enough to drink she even let it slip that she’d once fallen into bed with the boys’ cousin Rochelle. By that time she realised she’d perhaps had drunk a little too much, but with the way Fleur blushed and laughed it was clear that she was not the only one. 

By the time their marriages were the topic of discussion, Fleur’s hand was resting on Narcissa’s thigh and they’d leaned closer to one another to hear each other more clearly over the noises of the cafe that only seemed to grow louder as time went on. Narcissa uttered complaints of her relationship since the war and lamented on the past joyous decades she’d spent with Lucius, and was too tipsy to hide the way her eyes lit up when Fleur mentioned she and Bill had long ago decided upon an open marriage. 

“It wouldn’t be unfaithful, then,” Narcissa began, putting down the remainder of what she had a feeling was not quite going to be the last Veela’s Touch she’d have that night on the bar to turn fully towards Fleur. Was it too vain to be turned on by how the girl looked like her younger self, Narcissa wondered briefly, but by the time she’d begun to say “if you were to-” she was cut off by soft lips against her own and she forgot to question her arrogance.

“It wouldn’t be,” Fleur muttered, rising from her bar stool to pull Narcissa closer to her. Narcissa moved with her, a surprised but not unsatisfied smile on her lips when they broke their kiss and Fleur’s eyes had turned an almost silvery blue shade. Perhaps she should have asked her previous question again, but Narcissa couldn’t care less if this might add to her not entirely untrue reputation of vanity. 

”Perfect.”

“You have a hotel room?”

“Just follow me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are of course always appreciated! My tumblr is @malfoy if you want to leave your own requests.


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